


The Toad Less Traveled

by ShofarSoGood



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel (House of M), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - House of M, Background Relationships, Brotherhood of Mutants (X-Men), Character Study, Gen, M-Day (X-Men), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Red Guard, SHIELD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29817939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShofarSoGood/pseuds/ShofarSoGood
Summary: Toad has everything he wants-- a good job, a best selling book, and the respect he deserves. Unfortunately that's all about to crumble when he learns that the House of M is a facade from the Scarlet Witch.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	1. Mortimer and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> I was rereading the original House of M comics and realized that Toad is present for much of the action, even though we don't see his thoughts on the matter. Here's the story through Toad's perspective.
> 
> Chapter 1 takes during place House of M #1.
> 
> Special thanks for Sophloph for beta-reading and being so supportive!

Mortimer was having a terrible day.  


Most of his days were bad, but this one managed to be singularly shitty. He knew it was going to be bad the instant he saw that all his milk had curdled when he poured it on the very last of the cereal. Nothing had improved since.  


Mort had searched through the cupboards and found little else to eat. He would have to go grocery shopping, which was one of his least favorite chores. He longed for the days when he was in the Brotherhood and someone else could do it. 

Mastermind was always good at striding in, collecting what was needed, and paying with non-existent money. That was so long ago—but now Mastermind was dead, Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver had turned to the good side, and Magneto was probably dead in Genosha. (Mort knew better than to assume Magneto was ever really dead. He’d been fooled by that too many times.)  


That was how Mortimer found himself filling a basket of essentials at the tiny corner bodega. Being in public made him nervous, so he had done his best to hide himself. He still felt exposed despite the turtleneck, gloves, hat, and coat. He was still green and that would always make him a target. The world never let Mortimer Toynbee forget that he was a freak.  


He approached the counter and placed the basket down. The store owner barely looked at Mort as he started scanning Cup Noodle containers and cans of beans, placing them automatically in a brown paper bag.  


“Find everything alright?” He sounded bored, like an automaton.  


“Yeah, thanks,” Mortimer replied.  


“What's that accent, English?” the owner glanced up at Mortimer, looking him in the face for the first time. The shock of Mortimer’s appearance registered briefly, but then the man was back to smiling and swiping groceries.  


Mort nodded. “Yeah, York. Good ear.”  


“We hear a lot of accents in this store. Just not yours, usually.”  


Mort swallowed. He hated making small talk. And worse, he hated any recognizable features. Any New York cop could place him from the description of “green and English, wearing goggles” alone.  


“Twenty-six fifty.” The owner looked at him expectantly.  


Mortimer reached into his pocket… and found nothing but lint. He reached into the left one instead and found the same situation. He patted his back pockets and found nothing. Shit. His wallet was still in the apartment.  


The owner coughed slightly. Mortimer could feel his eyes burrowing into Mort’s skull. Mort was trying so hard to be good, to stay under the radar. But he did have to eat…  


Mortimer flicked his tongue out and wrapped it around the brown bag, pulling it toward himself. The owner of the bodega visibly recoiled. Wasting no time, Mort turned to the entrance and began to hop away.  


“Stop!” the bodega owner yelled. “Thief!”  


Just outside the doors off the store stood three very large, very muscular bikers. One sported a massive Friends of Humanity tattoo. Mort only needed one glace before jumping in the other direction.  


“Hey, mutie freak!” a deep voice boomed after him. His day just got better and better.  


Mort hopped as fast as he could away. Normally, out-running flatscans would be easy, but the bag of groceries was definitely impeding his progress. The other sapes walking in the opposite direction didn't help matters, although most of them jumped back in shock when they saw a green man hopping on all fours down the street, carrying a bag of groceries with his elongated tongue, being chased by three meatheads.  


“Get back here, gene freak!” No one ever accused the FoH of having creative members.  


Mortimer saw an alley and darted down it. A few jumps in and he realized he was at a dead end.  


“We got you now!” From the corner of his eye, Mort noticed that the bikers behind him had somehow picked up large pieces of wood and were waving them threateningly. Where did they even find two by fours? Did they just carry planks around to beat mutants they came across?  


It didn't matter. With a single thrust, Mortimer launched himself several meters upwards, safely away from the bikers below, and onto the fire escape. In a second bound, he was on the roof.  


“Holy shit,” one of the bikers whispered. “Didja see that?”  


Mortimer walked across the flat roof of the building to the other side, and peered down. He squinted at the intersection of two streets, but couldn't make out the signs. Had he gotten even more nearsighted?  


He sighed as he fell into a familiar crouch. He would simply have to wait for the coast to clear before he could return to street level and find his way back to his shitty, one room apartment.  


_I bet Spider-Man never gets lost in New York,_ he thought bitterly. _Probably has an internal GPS or something like that._  


It was a terrible day to be Toad.  


Putting the groceries down beside him, Mortimer pulled off his goggles and rubbed his eyes. He couldn't see the world burning to white outside.


	2. Toad's Excellent Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today was going to be excellent. Toad was certain of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 follows House of M issue #2 and part of #3.
> 
> Again, much love to Sophloph for proofreading and editing.

Toad was having an excellent day.  


He was practically shaking with excitement when he ended the video call with his agent. She had called with incredible news. Three million copies of By His Side sold in the first two weeks (a million in Genosha alone), top of the New York Times best seller list. Granted, most of that was Magnus’s popularity and not his own, but still. How many authors could say their debut book was a best seller? Not many.  


Best of all, Allison Blaire wanted him on her show! Toad was going to discuss his book on worldwide TV with Dazzler. He tried not to be too thunderstruck—sure, he’d owned several of her albums as a teenager and stared at a poster of her more often than he’d like to admit, but she was going to be interviewing him as a professional, not a fan. Him, Toad!  


Toad began putting on his uniform to start the day. Something crinkled in his breast pocket. He pulled out the scrap of paper, and unfolded it. “ _Call me! 555-555-8163 Husk_ ” He’d nearly forgotten about the girl from the bar last night. Sure, he was only there to gather intel on flatscan terrorists, but he certainly wasn't going to stop a pretty blonde from flirting with him, even if she did keep shedding her skin. He couldn't help but grin as he put the paper back in his pocket.  


Everything was going great.  


Toad pulled his hair back and tied it into a ponytail with a ribbon. He knew he was stealing the look from Director Shaw, but he hoped no one else would notice. Most people noticed Shaw’s muttonchops before his old fashioned ponytail. Toad glanced at himself in the mirror over his bed.  


Toad looked good, cool even, in his Red Guard uniform. The uniform itself was classy, but it also oozed power and status. As a teenager, Toad barely could’ve imagined surviving this long as a mutant, let alone finally shedding his nerdy exoskeleton and becoming a confident adult. He no longer needed to hide being green or having a thirty-foot long tongue. He didn't feel weak for wearing goggles that let him see in the daylight without pain. He was a mutant, _Homo superior_ , and there was nothing to be ashamed of anymore.  


Toad leapt to the hallway, locking his door behind him. No one would dare steal from his quarters but he still felt safer locking it. It was an unusual habit to retain on the Helicarrier, but growing up in a shitty English orphanage left its mark.  


As he began to leap down to the cafeteria, he heard an ear-piercing scream. “Logan!” He’d recognize Mystique’s voice anywhere.  


Toad spun around and leapt to the source of the scream, bounding up several flights of stairs. Mystique was standing on the edge of the Helicarrier, looking down in horror. Nightcrawler had already teleported to his mother's side.  


“I don't know what happened,” Mystique was saying. “He acted like he didn't know who I was or what House Magnus was. He said everything was wrong and then he just… jumped.”  


“He has a healing factor,” Nightcrawler replied. “I’m sure he survived the fall.” It was no secret that Nightcrawler disapproved of Wolverine’s relationship with his mother, but Toad thought this was particularly callous, even for the teleporter.  


“I'm not worried about his survival!” Mystique snapped. “I'm worried about his sanity. He's popped a stitch this time. It's finally happened.”  


“So we’ll get him to Madame Webb,” Toad interjected. “She'll set him straight.”  


Mystique pursed her lips. “He looked almost afraid. I don't know if he'll come with us willingly.”  


Toad felt his bowels turn to ice. He would feel confident taking on most mutants with the Red Guard behind him, but Wolverine was a whole different can of worms. Wolverine didn't have qualms about using his claws, and that made him dangerous, more than S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted to admit. Out of everyone on his team, Wolverine was the last person Toad wanted to fight, despite knowing him for years.  


“Kurt, find a tracking pad. Mortimer, get Rogue and Jessica. I'll tell Shaw what happened and get the go ahead to bring him in.” Mystique filled the empty leadership role so well. Toad would be impressed if he weren't terrified. He merely nodded and started off to find his teammates.  


There were five of them. Surely they could handle getting Wolverine back on the Helicarrier safely. Today would continue to be good, Toad knew it.


	3. Recovery Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Red Guard tries to rescue their leader and get him help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 follows House of M #3.
> 
> Thank you for Sophloph for editing!

“Why would he go ta Stark Tower, of all places?” Rogue drawled.  


“Maybe he got really into Sapien Death Match?” Nightcrawler joked.  


' _Maybe he's finally lost it entirely,_ ' Toad thought. He was thankful that no one on the team was telepathic and knew how scared he was. The most dangerous mutant suddenly going AWOL was a huge cause for concern, even before the gala was announced.  


The Red Guard finally stood at the doors to the Stark Building. Under any other circumstances, the building would be impressive and a good monument to _Homo sapiens_ persevering against all odds. Now, though, it was hard to imagine anything besides what Wolverine might be doing inside.  


Mystique’s shoulders were tense and drawn around her ears. Toad had never seen her nervous before, and the mere idea of Mystique being scared sent his whole body on edge. “Look,” she said, turning to face her team. “The goal is to get Logan and bring him back to the Helicarrier. Talk to him first, try to get him to come easy. We're trying for minimal casualties—don’t want to get the sapiens riled against us for nothing. They all practically worship Stark. But remember that the number one target is Wolverine. If you have to use lethal force, do it.” Her voice was steady but a slight twitch in jaw gave away her feelings. “Am I clear?”  


“Crystal.” Jessica gave a salute. Toad wondered if she resented Mystique talking about sapiens as if they were one group. It was impossible to tell with Jessica Drew.  


Nightcrawler and Rogue gave words of agreement and Toad nodded. He was afraid to trip on his tongue if he said anything, literally or figuratively.  


Mystique led the way into building. The crowd took one look at them and moved to give them room. Most of the humans looked terrified to see Magneto’s elite guard in real life. A few were awestruck, but all of them gave a wide berth. Without the crowd, Toad could see a short, muscular figure arguing with a woman behind an information counter. Wolverine.  


“Logan,” Mystique called. Her voice was soft, kind, even. She was normally so acerbic. “We’re here to bring you home.”  


“We're your team! You can talk to us,” Toad added. He and Wolverine weren’t particularly close, but he knew it was better to talk to him than fight.  


Wolverine tensed. He slowly unsheathed his claws, as if he was thinking about what to do. He hesitated, then ran toward the side walk, shattering a plate glass window.  


“Scheisse,” Nightcrawler muttered.  


Just like that, all of them were running after him. Rogue had her gloves off and Jessica was preparing to shock him. Wolverine hopped on a motorcycle and gunned it. He had to have stolen it—there was no place for personal vehicles on the Helicarrier. Mystique kept firing her guns at the diminishing target. Nightcrawler teleported next to Wolverine.  


Toad was hopping as fast as possible to catch up. If he could get close, his tongue could grab the keys and pull them out. He could stop Wolverine’s escape. If only he was a little closer….  


With a mighty shove, Wolverine dislodged Nightcrawler and sent him rolling into the street, crying out in pain. Toad moved torward his fallen comrade, hoping to pull him out of the street and away from cars.  


With a whooshing noise, a large black figure appeared in the middle of the road in front of Wolverine. It appeared to be a head and a rather shapeless, void-like body. Wolverine drove right into the figure, and then the shadow folded in on itself and disappeared with a second whoosh.  


“What was that!?” Rogue shouted as she finally reached her foster brother.  


“Teleporter,” Nightcrawler said simply.  


“You know him?” Toad asked.  


Nightcrawler laughed bitterly. “Not all teleporters know each other, Toad.”  


“Let's get you outta th’ street.” Rogue effortlessly scooped up her brother and moved him to the sidewalk where Mystique and Jessica Drew were waiting. Toad followed meekly behind the them.  


“That was a disaster,” Jessica said. Toad stayed silent, but agreed. “We need a better strategy.”  


“He still has th’ tracker,” Rogue pointed out. “If Ah can get close to ‘im, Ah can siphon off enough power ta make ‘im sleep. Then we can bring ‘im to Madame Webb. Nightcrawler just needs to get me close enough.”  


“Fine.” Mystique acquiesced. The twitch in her jaw told Toad she was upset about her plan of asking nicely not working. “Look at the tracking pad, see where he is now.”  


Jessica pulled out the pad and turned the screen on with a _ping!_. She stared at the screen for several seconds.  


“It takes time to find someone after teleporting,” Nightcrawler offered. “We may have to wait.”  


Toad bit his lower lip. This was no longer shaping up to be the amazing day he initially thought.


	4. The Reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Red Guard traces Wolverine to his hideout in the Fisk Building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 follows House of M #4 and 5.
> 
> Content warning for a single ableist slur and very brief implied child abuse. Nothing graphic or upsetting but I wanted to give everyone a heads-up.
> 
> Thank you to Sophloph for proofreading and editing!

“Unbelievable,” Mystique sneered. “How do you surround a group of sapes with two sentinels and they don't capture a single person?” 

“Ze teleporter must be good.” Nightcrawler shrugged. 

“Or the Sentinels ain't doing their jobs,” Rogue added. “Ah think maybe their programming is faulty.” 

They had returned to the Helicarrier for the time being. It would be easier to find Wolverine from the sky than the ground. Jessica was frantically scanning police reports and civilian tip offs on a tablet, trying to see if there was anything pointing to Wolverine. Mystique looked furious, but it was hard to tell if that anger was at the sentinels’ incompetence or the situation at hand. She had begun to pace back and forth. It was a less of a nervous tic and more a sign of deep thought. The Red Guard’s war room was barely big enough for her to make several paces. Nightcrawler crouched on the windowsill, frowning at his mother. Rogue leaned against a wall, her blue-green eyes flickering between her teammates. 

Toad couldn't stop shaking his left leg. The whole war room felt crowded and uncomfortable, even though he had spent a significant chunk of his time here. The Helicarrier itself seemed shaky. The Red Guard had never had a mission go so wrong before. The whole reputation of the Red Guard was that they got things done, no matter what. That was why Magneto had handpicked them. This wasn't supposed to happen. 

If Wolverine were here, it would be easy to find a missing person. He was their tracker, and his sharp nose was impossible to avoid. Without him, they were practically hunting blind. 

“Why would he hang out with sapiens? Everyone knows he's a mutant. They ain't gonna trust him.” Leave it to Rogue to be level-headed about the whole situation. 

“He's off ze deep end,” Nightcrawler replied. “It doesn't have to make sense.” 

“I've never known Logan to do something without a reason,” Mystique sighed. “Even if he's popped a stitch, he would have a reason for going there.” 

“I got it!” Jessica exclaimed. With a few clicks, she pulled up a photo from a traffic camera on the projector. 

The image was blurry, but unmistakable. Wolverine was entering a building, followed by a busty blonde woman, a middle school-aged child, and a figure dressed in a long, black cloak. 

“Vhere is zis?” Nightcrawler asked. 

With another click, a small map appeared beside the photograph. The red dot indicated they were— 

“Wilson Fisk's headquarters,” Toad breathed. “Of course. It's bound to be empty now that their leader is in jail.” 

“Who's that woman?” Mystique asked. 

Jessica tapped a few more keys, before bringing up the woman’s driver’s license. “Emma Frost-Summers. Telepathic. Child psychologist specializing in children dealing with their powers manifesting. Husband is Scott Summers, civilian pilot. No kids. No criminal record.” 

“Any chance this telepath is pulling the strings?” 

“Just because she's a telepath don't make her a bad person, Momma,” Rogue interjected. “’Sides, Wolverine has been trained in resisting psychics. I doubt she's capable of controlling him.” 

“What about the girl?” Toad pointed out. “She could be manipulating the child. Do we know who the kid is?” 

Jessica tapped the tablet a few times before shaking her head. “She's too young to be in any registry. I got nothing.” 

“How about the teleporter?” 

His driver's license and mugshot appeared on the protection. “Tyrone Johnson. Human. He was the subject of an illegal drug experimentation to give humans powers, which gave him teleportation. Now goes by Cloak. He has a small rap sheet—vagrancy as teenager, shoplifting as a teen, loitering… lots of petty crimes, nothing that would put him on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s radar.” 

Nightcrawler teleported next to Jessica and held out a three fingered hand. “May I?” Nightcrawler was always effortlessly smooth with women. It was almost infuriating how good he was at flirting. Toad couldn't help but be a little jealous. 

“Certainly.” Jessica handed him the tablet. 

With a few motions, Nightcrawler pulled up blueprints for the Fisk building. “Fisk is a crime lord. His specialty is MGH.” With a gloved finger, he drew a red circle on the back of the building. “But Fisk isn't very smart. He's using ze same trick old bootleggers used. Back here is an old tunnel, leads to ze sewers. We can enter sewers from a few blocks away and zen get into ze building. Ze sewers should mask our scent. Wolverine won't zee us coming.” 

“And how d’you know this?” Rogue asked. 

Nightcrawler shrugged. “I know one of ze detectives tracking ze MGH trade in ze city.” 

“There's an alley with a dead end and a man hole cover a block up,” Toad said. “We could start there.” 

Mystique nodded. “Let's get our man back then.” 

°°° 

The plan went smoother than expected. The sewers were straight lines, and drug runners had helpfully tagged the path to the Fisk Building with colorful graffiti. The smell made Toad’s teammates gag, but it didn't phase him. He supposed his powers made it easy to ignore rancid odors. 

Within minutes, the team was inside the office building. The lobby was empty. 

Nightcrawler stood still and cocked his head, pulling his long hair back to expose a blue, elven ear. He waited a few seconds. 

“Zey are upstairs,” he said. “But zere’s a lot of zem. More zan just ze four from earlier.” 

“Alright,” Mystique said. “Here's the plan. Anna Marie, you knock down the wall to the room. They'll be disoriented. We hit them hard and fast. Anna, you touch Logan enough to knock him out. Everyone else, provide cover. The minute Anna has Logan, we leave. The others are far less important.” She made sure to make sure contact with each of them. “Everyone got it?” 

The members of the Red Guard nodded. Mystique led the way up the flight of stairs, unholstering her guns as she went. Toad’s heart was in his mouth. This didn't feel right. He didn't like rushing into a room without knowing who the other people were inside. 

Toad unfurled his tongue, ready to strike. 

With one punch, Rogue had the wall pulverized into a fine powder. FOOM! 

“All y'all get your hands and claws in the air. You are under arrest!” Rogue shouted. 

In the dimly lit room, Toad could make out over a dozen people, some new and some familiar. Wolverine was in the center of it all. 

To Wolverine's right was a goateed human in an expensive suit—Tony Stark? The Tony Stark? Closer to the window was Captain Marvel, wearing her signature costume. She was right next to She-Hulk, very recognizable as her green self. What on earth was going on? 

“Logan, this is insane!” Toad blurted out as he raced to follow Mystique's orders. He doubted Wolverine could even hear him over the melee. 

Toad approached the man closest to him, a large Black man with cornrows. Toad wrapped his tongue around the man’s neck and squeezed—but nothing happened. The man should be passing out, but his skin barely moved under the pressure of Toad’s tongue. He was resisting an incredible amount of force. 

“Get the hell off me!” the man shouted, somehow still able to talk. It was impressive for a sapien, but Toad wished he'd been more informed about his opponent beforehand. 

A girlish scream cut through the fighting. Rogue had grabbed the young girl by her braids and was jerking her head upwards. 

“Okay, rebel pains in the everything, we got ya every way till Sunday,” Rogue said. She was bluffing, but no one was going to move while Rogue had the girl in her hands. She was very capable of ripping the girl’s head clean off, and Toad was fairly certain she would do it. 

“Oh God!” the girl yelled. Her eyes were brimming with tears. She couldn't have been more than twelve. Children didn't deserve to be caught up in adult nonsense. Toad wanted badly to give her a hug, reassure her, and take her back to her parents. She obviously never expected to be threatened by a member of the Red Guard, and it wasn’t an experience she would soon forget. 

“We’re agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.” Rogue continued. “Now put your hands in the air before someone gets—” One of Rogue’s fingers brushed the girl’s cheek. 

Rogue’s eyes glowed green and then… 

_The other children were chasing him, stones in their hands. “Why don't you fight back, Mortitard?” He didn't have an answer. He simply ran as fast as his misshapen legs could carry him. They caught him anyway. … He spent that night applying bandages to himself in the attic of the orphanage. He was alone._

_“Useless gargoyle!” Magneto was yelling at him. “Simpering imbecile!” He wasn't even sure what he’d done wrong. No one in the Brotherhood liked him._

_He was watching Arkon flirt with the Scarlet Witch. She was the only person who had shown him a shred of kindness, even if it was tinged with pity. He wanted so badly to touch her, to tell her how much he cared, but he knew the rejection would hurt too much. He stayed silent._

_He had nothing. He was a nobody. He was on a roof. He was at the edge. He took a step off. He was falling. He was being carried. It was Spider-Man. He was being saved by Spider-Man!_

_Spider-Man didn't want a side kick. He didn't want Mortimer either._

_He still wanted Wanda, but she was with the Vision. A robot. He could build robots just as well, couldn’t he? And certainly more._

_It didn't matter. She was pregnant. The Scarlet Witch was pregnant by a_ robot. _He didn't want to think about the mechanics behind the conception._

_He was alone._

_He had brought together a new Brotherhood. He was actually a leader. But it didn't matter when he couldn't keep his teammates alive. He was supposed to be responsible, and he let Sauron and Masque get killed. Maybe Magneto was right. Maybe he was useless._

_He was always on the wrong side… the wrong side of the law, the losing side, the immoral side._

_Over and over again, he was working with other villains, but none of them really liked him. They tolerated him, they would use his powers or use him a distraction, but he wasn't their friend._

_Mystique had Destiny, Avalanche had Pyro, even Blob had Unus. Mortimer was alone. Always alone._

That was his reality. A lifetime of being an ugly loser that no one wanted. This reality was a fake! Of course he wasn't a famous author! Of course he wasn't really a member of S.H.I.E.L.D., dutifully serving a man who despised him. Of course. Those kinds of things happened to other people, not Mortimer. 

He was vaguely aware that Luke Cage was pushing him off, untangling his tongue from Luke’s neck. He hit the floor and stayed there. 

Rogue was repeating, “no” over and over, nearly in tears, while Cyclops worked to comfort her, telling her she needed to be strong. Spider-Man was rubbing Jessica Drew’s back while he tried to be sympathetic to the situation. Shadowcat had rushed to Nightcrawler, asking if he knew where Pietro was. Mystique had slapped Wolverine, but Wolverine was still talking to her, something about how Magneto had actually created the fake reality. 

Mortimer was alone. 


	5. The Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our team of heroes gather on the Helicarrier and Toad eats spaghetti.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 follows House of M #6.
> 
> The dialogue between Jessica Drew (Spider-Woman) and Wolverine is straight from the issue. I really loved Brian Michael Bendis's dialog here and didn't want to skimp out on it. The rest of the dialog is original.
> 
> Thanks for Sophloph for reading and proofreading! (And putting up with me sending her Toad-related panels.)

Cyclops and Wolverine had explained the situation while Spider-Woman flew them to the Helicarrier. It was complicated and, thankfully, the ride to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters was long enough for the story.  


The Scarlet Witch had had twins by Vision, but they were made of magic, since Vision wasn’t organic. The twins had been coopted by Mephisto to gain a foothold in their regular reality, and, in order to save everyone, Wanda’s mentor Agatha needed to erase the children and wipe Wanda’s mind.  


Six months ago, Scarlet Witch regained her memories and lost control of her powers, killing three Avengers and destroying the Avengers mansion. The remaining Avengers subdued her, and Magneto took his daughter to Genosha in hopes that Charles Xavier could help her.  


Xavier couldn’t. He approached the Avengers and the X-men to figure out what to do with the Scarlet Witch, and if she should be killed to prevent her from losing control again. (Mortimer’s stomach twisted at this.) Magneto must have found out and convinced Wanda to remake reality so that he was king. It was exactly the sort of thing Magneto would do.  


It was a convoluted story, but it did make sense.  


Mortimer didn't like that Wanda had children by a robot, but she certainly didn't deserve to have the devil taking their bodies, and then for them to be erased to save reality. At least she had children in this world, even if Vision wasn't their father. Wanda deserved some measure of happiness.  


At long last, they docked on the Helicarrier. Emma Frost telepathically protected them from being seen, which was, according to Spider-Man, “creepy.” Mortimer had to agree. He was used to be stared at. Somehow, people looking through him was even worse.  


The rag-tag group walked to the command center, where Frost commanded Captain Greycrow to take them to Genosha. She did it effortlessly, not even raising a finger. Greycrow was a Marauder, a murderer capable of any kind of evil. He'd slaughtered the Morlocks’ children without a care in the world, and now he was following Frost’s instructions better than he followed Mister Sinister’s. Mortimer had to suppress a shudder. He never wanted to be on Frost’s bad side.  


The group walked to the cafeteria to wait for their arrival. Cyclops was insisting people eat, even though most of them ignored them.  


Mortimer snagged a tray of spaghetti from a counter. He hadn’t eaten anything all day, except for some granola in the morning. He felt sick, but he knew he’d have to keep up his strength. Cyclops was an overbearing asshole most of the time, but he was right about this one.  


Mortimer sat down at the edge of the group. They were arguing about how to go about fixing things. Mort had some ideas, but he knew that no one else wanted to hear them. He twirled his spaghetti on his fork. It probably wasn’t even worth listening to the discussion. He certainly didn't want to think about hurting the Scarlet Witch, even if she had caused this.  


“Magneto got what he wanted, but so did we. Isn't it a wash?” Spider-Woman said. The group went silent. Mortimer was afraid someone could hear him chewing.  


“Weren't we happier here?” Spider-Woman continued. “I was. I- I think I was. Wasn’t everybody? They gave us what we always wanted and-- isn't there an argument that we deserved to get this?”  


Mortimer was happier. It might've been the only time he'd been truly happy in his life. He thought he deserved that happened, although the X-men would certainly disagree. Maybe people who joined a group for “evil mutants” didn't deserve happiness, but he had been put through the wringer his whole life. No parents, no real friends, no steady job, mental illness for days… he wanted to feel happy. He wanted to wake up feeling appreciated and not have to hold his tongue because he’d get scolded for having an opinion.  


“I don't know… Maybe this was the time for this happen,” Spider-Woman said, fiddling with the belt buckle on her Red Guard uniform.  


“One day, Jess,” Wolverine replied, “you're going to be really embarrassed you said that out loud.”  


“Stop. Just listen,” she retorted. “My point is—when something of this magnitude happens, you have to step back for a second and say: maybe this was time for this to happen. Who are we to decide how the world’s supposed to be? When the meteors hit the earth and destroy a species-- it's natural selection, right? Like Kitty said: a meteor just hit the earth! Maybe this is how Mutants become the next dominant species.”  


It was a bold thing for a sapien to say. Most of the Avengers were humans; of course they wanted reality back. It was always rare to see one admit that mutants were next in line for the global throne.  


“That's two things you're going to be embarrassed you said out loud.” Wolverine sighed and stirred his coffee.  


Spider-Woman snorted quietly. “Translation: you don't know if I'm right or wrong, and it scares the crap out of you. And it should.”  


The whole team went silent, digesting her words.  


Mortimer wanted very badly to stand up and agree, to argue that this reality was a good change. But he knew it would weaken Spider-Woman’s point. He could imagine her saying, _“Oh, well, if Toad agrees, then I'm definitely wrong._ ” Worse, someone might say “ _you only want this because you're such a pathetic loser in reality._ ” Then everyone would laugh at him, laugh all the way to Genosha, and they'd probably lock him in a storage closet on the way off the Helicarrier.  


“Spidey?” Luke Cage said.  


Toad looked up to see Spider-Man leaving the cafeteria. “Excuse me,” the hero muttered as he left.  


“Jeez, I've never seen him like this.” Shadowcat bit her lip and furrowed her brows.  


“Give him a minute,” Cage reassured her. “He’ll get it together.”  


Mortimer took another bite of spaghetti and chewed it slowly. He put his tray down beside him and stood up. He walked out of the cafeteria and no one said a word. Figures that they would notice Spider-Man leaving, and not little Toad. _Everyone was nervous_ , he tried to reason with himself. _They're not ignoring you. They're just busy. Nothing to do with you._  


He was bad at talking himself out of it. His psychiatrist called them “self-hate spirals,” and Mort was constantly in one.  


He found Spider-Man a short way down the hall, sitting on the floor. The Avenger had his head in-between his knees.  


“Sp—Spider-Man?” Mortimer asked.  


Spider-Man looked up, his eyes watery. A quick expression of " _Oh, it's you_ ” passed over his face. “I came here to be alone.”  


Mortimer could hear the “go away” in his hero’s voice. He shifted his weight from foot to foot. Spider-Man had saved him from suicide once. Mort owed it to the man to return the favor.  


“I know, I just—” He faltered. “I just wanted to… I wanted to say I'm here if you wanted to talk.”  


Spider-Man snorted. It wasn’t loud, and without his powers, Toad probably wouldn't have even heard it. He doubted Spider-Man even intended for him to hear it. But he had spent a lifetime looking for little snorts, eye rolls, jaw twitches, anything that might indicate future abuse.  


“Look, I know I'm not the person you want right now,” Mort did his best to steel himself. “But I know what it's like to feel shitty. My life just went from being amazing to going back to being garbage. I probably don't know exactly what you're feeling, but I can at least try to listen and help you.”  


He took off his googles and tried to make eye contact, which was difficult with the bright hallway lights and his nearsightedness. “I want to help you like you helped me. Sir.”  


Spider-Man nodded. “Thank you.” He wiped the corner of his eye. “I appreciate it, Toad, I do, but I would really like to be left alone.”  


Mortimer nodded. “Sure thing.” At least Spider-Man was nice about rejecting him.  


He put his googles back on, turned and walked back to the cafeteria. He went to finish his spaghetti, only to see that his plate had been bussed. He should have expected as much, but still. He did want to eat the rest of it. He sat down in the same chair as before.  


Mystique slid into the chair next to him. “Aww,” she purred. “Did your crush reject you?”  


Mortimer tried so hard not to tense up. Mystique was great at reading body language, and if she knew that she hit a sore spot, she'd continue to poke at it. She had been making snide comments about Mort and Spider-Man ever since she learned he was a fan.  


“Shut up, Mystique.” He tried to be tough, but his voice cracked. Dammit. Now she’d never let him live it down.  


Mystique cackled as she got up and walked away.  


Mortimer covered his head in his hands. Today was truly shaping up to be the worst day ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized, while rereading all of the House of M and Decimation books, that Toad has a fairly sizable role in 198. I was planning on writing a few chapters of Toad adjusting to life after M-Day but I might do a retelling of 198. Please let me if you'd prefer one or the other. Thank you for reading!


	6. The House of Magnus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team faces off against the House of M.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Six follows House of M issues #6 and and #7.
> 
> Again, some dialogue is taken from the original comics, written by Brian Michael Bendis. That's Magneto and Scarlet Witch's speeches, although I abbreviated Wanda's speech a lot.
> 
> Thanks to Sophloph for proofreading and listening to my Toad-related rants, and thank you to everyone who left comments and kudos so far. I'm so glad people are enjoying it.

Mortimer spent the rest of the trip in silence. No one asked if he was okay. Most of them probably didn't even notice that the usually verbose man had barely spoken. Mort was forgettable.  


They arrived over Genosha when the gala had already started. From the windows of the Helicarrier, Mortimer could see the raised platform at the base of the castle. The central platform was filled with reporters, photographers, V.I P.s, body guards, the entourages from Latveria, Atlantis, Kenya, and Wakanda, and, in the center of it all, the House of Magnus. Magneto sat on a throne with his children arranged beside him, his grandchildren in his lap. He looked happy.  


Mortimer’s heart panged. Magneto had made his opinions toward Mort very clear, but Mort still felt loyalty towards the man. He was a visionary—a man who decided to end human supremacy and take the world for mutants. This was a man who had lost everything and never despaired; he just pushed himself harder. Magneto was inspirational, and something about him would always command Mortimer's respect.  


Mortimer opened his mouth to withdraw from the mission, to say he couldn't do it, that he couldn't hurt his former teammates even for the sake of reality—but then Sentinel dropped, and it was too late.  


Magneto and Polaris stopped the goliath from hitting the people below, as the heroes knew they would. Then everyone jumped out of the giant robot, prepared for the fight of their lives.  


Everyone else seemed fine with immediately battling Magneto’s guards and the other royal families. Everyone else was a hero, used to fighting for their convictions.  


Mortimer was a coward.  


He could identify several of his former compatriots—Blob, Pyro, Phantazia, Feral, Sauron—and there wasn't a single one he thought he could take in a fair fight. And he surely didn't think he could handle Storm, Namor, or Doom. Before Layla Miller had shown him reality, Mortimer would've fine attacking any one of these people, believing himself to be a member of the Red Guard. Now, having knowledge of his own reality, he was certain he'd get killed, or at least badly injured.  


He backed himself up against a pillar and began to move behind it. Maybe he could just hide for the duration of the battle?  


“You!” No such luck.  


Mortimer was lifted up by his belt buckle and the buttons on his uniform. He had forgotten how much metal was in the Red Guard uniforms, and that there was a very good reason for it.  


Polaris spun Mortimer so that he was facing her. She was alone on the platform. Quicksilver must've moved Wanda and the children to safety. Mort couldn't see Magneto anywhere.  


“What is going on? You're supposed to be protecting us!” Polaris shouted. Mort could tell her that he snuck away from the fight to protect her, that he was still loyal, that he'd get her to safety no matter what. But when she yelled, her expression looked so much like her father, and he couldn't imagine lying to her.  


“I'm sorry!” Mortimer said. “Princess Lorna, I'm sorry, I am, but this isn't real.”  


“What isn’t?” Polaris hissed, her green eyebrows knitting.  


Mortimer tried to gesture, but his cufflinks were pressed against sides. “Everything… reality. Your sister… She made this happen.”  


“How stupid do you think I am?” Polaris shouted. “Wanda doesn't have powers!”  


With an incredible thud and a sickening ripping sound, metal peeled off the Sentinel and sheared into strips, each one wrapping up a combatant and lifting them up. Polaris yelped and dropped Mortimer. He turned his head to see Magneto striding into fray, shaking and glowing with magnetic energy.  


“What have you done in my name, boy??” Magneto screamed, glaring at Quicksilver. Quicksilver was enveloped in the skin of the Sentinel, but Magneto held him against the floor.  


Quicksilver? Magneto was ambitious and power-hungry, but Quicksilver wasn’t. He had always been a cocky asshole, and certainly possessive, but Mortimer couldn’t fathom him doing anything like this.  


“You were going to let them kill her!” Quicksilver replied, his face covered in tears.  


“You used her, and you used me!” Magneto boomed, his eyes glowing blue with his powers. “I never would have allowed this!”  


Magneto raised his hand and clenched his fingers. Balls of metal peeled off the Sentinel and levitated in the air. “You've destroyed everything and everyone!”  


With a flick of his wrist, Magneto hurled the balls at Quicksilver with a boom.  


“Oh God,” Polaris whispered. “He's gonna kill him.”  


She was absolutely right, Mortimer realized. For all the times Magneto had insulted him, even hit him, he had never looked so enraged, so utterly beyond reason.  


“Don't look,” Mortimer said softly, pulling Polaris into his arms. He expected her to pull away, but instead she crumbled into his chest.  


“And you used my name to do it!” Magneto yelled. There was another boom. “What right!?”  


Polaris started to sob. Mortimer had absolutely no idea what to do. She was barely covered in her royal garb and he absolutely did not want to break her boundaries and touch her skin. He had never really tried comforting women because they were nearly all repulsed by him. He settled for patting her back through her green hair. “It’ll be alright,” he whispered, but they both knew he was lying.  


“WHAT RIGHT?” Magneto shouted again. The metal hit the ground with enough force that Mortimer felt it in his feet. This time there was also a sickening, gut-wrenching sound of bones cracking. Quicksilver was dead, Mort was certain.  


“Nooooooo!” The wail was distant and definitely female.  


Turning towards the sound, Mortimer and Polaris could see the walls of the castle tower crumbling to reveal a silhouette outlined in red. The Scarlet Witch.  


The Scarlet Witch flew down to the ground and pulled her twin’s body from the metal cocoon. His face was caved in, unrecognizable.  


“Wanda, you shall—” She had Magneto levitating off the ground before sentence was over. Her hex had silenced her father.  


Polaris looked stunned and horrified. _Still think she has no powers?_ Mortimer thought, even though he knew she couldn't hear him.  


The Scarlet Witch pulled Quicksilver’s body onto her lap, crying down onto it. “He—he only wanted you to be happy. Look what you've done to us, Daddy.”  


Something at the base of Mortimer's skull began to unfurl and claw at his consciousness. Wanda had never called Magneto Daddy before.  


“Pietro was right—you ruined us before we even had a chance. Why would you treat your own children this way? Babies. Why?”  


Wanda had never cried to Magneto like this before. In all the time he had spent with her, Mort had never seen Wanda like this. Beyond angry, beyond sad. There was so much hurt in her.  


“Because you actually think you're better than everyone else. The arrogance of you. You think because we're mutants, we’re better than them. That we deserve to rule.”  


Mort’s heart beat faster. Something bad was going to happen.  


“That’s what you wanted and I _gave_ it to you. But look… look what it becomes….” Wanda kept her voice level. She didn't shout, but the anger was there. “Even when you get what you want, you're still this horrible man.”  


The clawing in Mort’s brain became unbearable. He turned to Polaris, who was frozen in shock. “You need to run,” he said, his voice trembling.  


“N-no,” she stammered. “I have to—for Wanda—”  


“No, you gotta leave now.” Mortimer gave her a slight shove.  


“No!”  


“Lorna!” Mortimer grabbed her wrists. “I took an oath to protect you. This isn't safe; you need to run. I’m doing this to protect you.”  


She bit down on her emerald lip, before turning and running away. Mortimer turned around, trying to guess who he could safely pull free. Might be best to save Shadowcat and Rogue first and get their help freeing the others.  


Before he could jump to anyone's aid, Wanda continued her speech.  


“Daddy…  


“No more mutants.”  


Then the world shattered into white.


	7. M-Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone goes back to the 616 reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter combines several different comics, not all of which were released at the same time. This is an amalgamation of House of M #8, The Day After oneshot, Generation M #1, and Son of M #1. I've taken some liberties as to when certain events line up.

Mortimer awoke to wailing. Beyond wailing—it was a caterwaul. The sound seemed to go on and on with no sign of stopping.  


Mort pulled his pillow over his head, which did nothing to stifle the sound. After several furious seconds, he got up to pound on the wall. But which one? Maybe the ceiling? All of them seemed to be emanating cries of despair. Frustrated, he sat back down on the lumpy mattress.  


He remembered his dream—Mortimer rarely remembered his dreams. This one seemed too real. It was definitely more detailed than dreams usually were. He sat on the edge of his bed and tried to gather his thoughts. Did that happen? Had Magneto really used Wanda to remake the world?  


No, not Magneto. Quicksilver. Magneto had killed Quicksilver for it. He’d bashed his own son into the ground until the speedster was unrecognizable. Mort’s stomach twisted. He’d seen dead bodies before, of course. He was, after all, a long time member of the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants, and a terrorist, according to the governments of every country he’d ever set foot in. Quicksilver’s death… that was different. It was one thing to see a man get shot, but it was entirely different seeing a man bashed in by hunks of metal until his skull was pulverized, by his own father no less. Magneto had held Pietro down, immobile, and killed him. Perhaps Magneto really was insane.  


Why would Quicksilver even try to change reality? He could run with his twin pretty much anywhere. He could take her to the moon and hide her there. Wasn’t he married to an Inhuman princess? That could’ve been someone else though. There were so many former Brotherhood members, Mort found them hard to keep track of. Was Mastermind the one with the Inhuman wife? No, he was the one who joined the Hellfire Club. He could do both, Mort supposed, but Jason Wyndgarde wasn’t exactly the marrying type.  


Mortimer put on his googles, fastening the strap around his head. It kept out the excess light, which made it much easier for him to think. He rarely remembered his dreams. That didn’t matter so much, since they were usually nightmares, anyway. He never had dreams this vivid, and it concerned him.  


He thought about calling his psychiatrist, but ultimately dismissed it. “Detailed dreams” were hardly a symptom of any of his illnesses, and he certainly couldn’t afford the fee to see his damn psychiatrist.  


If he had money, maybe he’d get an apartment that had thicker walls and he wouldn’t have to hear all this racket. He stood up again to grab the broom and whack it on the ceiling a few times.  


_**THOOOM!**_  


The sound made everything in the room rattle. One of the cups filled with pencils, paint brushes, and various drafting instruments fell over, spilling its contents on the floor. Mort himself tumbled onto the floor, eliciting a “shit!”  


He looked up, panicked. The sobbing in the building stopped for a minute.  


Was that a bomb? Could be. Having a neighborhood full of mutants always painted a target on their backs. The Friends of Humanity liked to show up and beat on smaller mutants, but they never attacked big groups. The Purifiers might bomb a civilian neighborhood, but they’d been silent recently.  


Mortimer didn’t want to move. He recalled Mystique teaching him to make pipe bombs. _“Make two bombs on timers. Set one ten minutes later and bury it. First one goes off, then the first responders come in, then the second bomb goes off.” She had smirked as she poured nails into the canister. “Maximum carnage.”_  


(Mortimer was very glad he no longer had to work with her.)  


Someone outside started screamed. “Ned! Jesus Christ, Ned!”  


A dozen or so voices joined in. “Ned, wake up!”  


“Who do we call? The Avengers?”  


“Anyone know first aid?”  


“First aid for a dragon?”  


A dragon? That piqued Mort’s interest. He kept himself low to the ground as he crept to the window. He was still wary of bombs.  


He peeked over the window sill. Sure enough, there was a large, orange dragon lying in the middle of the street. He was covered in glass and rubble of the surrounding buildings. It looked like he had crashed into the skyscrapers. The dragon was very, very still.  


There were people trying fruitlessly to help. Someone was trying desperately to find a pulse, even though the dragon was clearly dead. Something was wrong, and it wasn’t just the giant reptile that had crashed in New York.  


With a start, Mortimer realized what the problem was.  


Everyone was human.  


This was Mutant Town. There were usually people with wings or scales or skin made of steel. People walked around on fire and no one batted an eye. Right now, everyone seemed utterly normal.  


What did Dream Wanda say?  


_“No more mutants.” _  
__

____

____

Mortimer’s intestines liquefied. No, no, that was impossible. Wanda wouldn’t do something like that. She wasn’t powerful enough. The screaming in the building started up again.  


He crept back onto the bed and flicked on the TV with the remote. It was already turned to the news.  


The shitty television clicked on. It took several seconds to get a signal. The TV was probably as old as he was; he’d picked it up for fifteen dollars in a pawn shop. It was probably stolen, but given the number of thefts Mort had committed, it didn’t bother him. He had to sit close to hear over the howling.  


“No one is quite sure yet precisely what is happening, but reports have been coming in all morning of mutants discovering that they have lost their powers,” the newscaster said. “In the initial surge of panic, there were scattered incidents of looting and arson, but local authorities have that situation under control.” Her voice was level and calm. She might as well have been narrating beavers making a happy dam. “Now they’re working together with the Red Cross and FEMA to determine how many people are affected and what can be done to help them. At the moment, people are mostly in shock. No one knows why, or how this happened… and most importantly of all, whether the effect is temporary or permanent.”  


Mortimer screamed and threw the remote at the television. The screen shattered in a shower of sparks. _Probably should’ve unplugged it_ , Mort thought. _Gotta do that before I start a fire. Again._  


He got up from the bed, careful to avoid the glass on the sticky carpet. He walked to the TV and cautiously put a hand behind it, feeling blindly for the plug. He was so angry at that fucking newscaster. How dare she deliver news like that, like this was as ordinary as a carjacking or a parade? She didn't give a damn! Fucking flatscan probably didn't know any mutants. He finally felt the rubber of the cord, and unplugged the TV.  


It was beyond gone. There was nothing left of the screen, and the remote had destroyed most of the circuitry behind it. He couldn't even find replacements with a TV this old. For a fifteen dollar TV, it wasn't even worth it. Nothing in there was even worth taking out and reusing for an android. Just another piece of junk ruined in anger.  


Stupid Mortimer. Always destroying anything he touched. Always making more work for himself. Stupid, stupid.  


He sighed and opened the closet. There wasn't much in there—mostly old clothes, a box of Pyro’s books he'd found on eBay and bought for a giggle (they were actually quite good), some odds and ends he could use for future automatons, an old baseball bat for protection. At the back, he found a dustpan and its brush, which were themselves dusty from lack of use. He could not find any trash bags for the TV or the glass. He groaned loudly.  


He wanted to clean, for once. If he was cleaning, he could avoid thinking the question that was threatening to surface. He could busy himself and push all the other thoughts down, but now, without the trash bags… was he still a mutant?  


Mort jumped from the closet to his chest of drawers. Jumping was still intact. He reached out with a tongue and flicked on the lamp. His tongue was still useful. He looked at himself in the mirror on the chest of drawers, the only mirror in the apartment. He was passably Caucasian, but he definitely had a green undertone that shown through in direct light. He was still a mutant.  


He closed his eyes and screamed. He screamed until his lungs started to burn. When he finally stopped, he wasn't surprised to find his face wet with tears.  


Of course he would still be a mutant. Of course. It was just his luck to stay hideous.  


Was this Wanda’s doing too? Had she intentionally let him keep his powers?  


No, probably not. Wanda didn't particularly like him, especially not after the last time he broke into her house. Her powers were just based on probability and, like always, Mort drew the short straw. Every other ugly mutant would be free to be human and leave Mutant Town and get real jobs. Why would such kindness ever find Toad? His life had always been shitty, and it would continue to be shitty.  


Mortimer considered throwing the mirror against the wall, but he really, really didn't want to clean up more glass. He needed some way to get his frustrations out, something like exercise. What he needed, more than anything, he realized, was to get entirely wasted. He'd probably find a fight that way, too.  


He swept up the glass from TV with the dustpan and brush. Stepping on glass while drunk would be incredibly unpleasant. He put what he could in the bathroom waste bin. He’d find a way to get rid of the TV tomorrow.  


Mortimer got dressed as quickly as possible, leaving his boxers in a pile on the floor. He didn't bother to see what he was pulling on, just that it was clean. He grabbed his largest coat to cover himself, a hat, and a scarf. The cold winter clothing wasn’t necessary just yet, but most people would assume he was homeless and wearing everything on his back. This time he remembered to grab his wallet, even though he only had 27 dollars in ones and fives. But if people were looting, it probably didn't matter.  


He locked the door to his apartment, and double checked to make sure it was locked. The hallway was empty, but the yelling from his neighbors (it had to be more than one) continued. He pulled the hat over his ears, but it didn't make a bit of difference.  


The dragon, Ned or whoever, was lying across the road, blocking traffic. Humans were hugging each other and crying—probably former mutants. Mort decided that all the bars in Mutant Town would be full tonight, and turned to take the subway uptown. Places with more humans might be less crowded.  


He resisted the urge to hop—no telling what people might do if they saw someone who retained their powers. The walk to the subway station took nearly three times as long, which was made worse by Mortimer nearly overheating in his disguise.  


There was a homeless man crouched by the station entrance. He had a hood pulled over his head and smelled strongly of alcohol. He was muttering something under this breath. There was a small styrofoam cup in front of him. Mort watched a woman in a purple dress put her change into the cup and heard it clinking.  


It would be incredibly easy to take that cup. Normally, Mortimer was above stealing from people who were just as downtrodden as he was, but today, he decided he could make an exception. If you couldn't break the law when mutants were losing their powers for seemingly no reason, when was a good time to break the law?  


Mortimer stuck a hand in his pocket, as if he was fishing for a dollar. He knew from experience that it was easiest to steal from panhandlers if you looked like were going to give them money.  


As Mortimer bent down, the man lurched forward, his hood falling back to reveal a shock of white hair. “Toad?” he rasped.  


Mortimer yelped. “Quicksilver?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dragon is Ned Ralston. He lost his powers mid-flight and crashed on Fifth Avenue in Generation M #1. Mutant Town isn't near Fifth Avenue but I think Ned is a good example of what can happen when someone loses their mutation suddenly, so I inserted it in here.
> 
> There is a comic where Toad loses his powers temporarily and becomes incredibly attractive, but since I haven't read it, I didn't feel comfortable directly referencing it. Suffice it to say, Toad was happy without his powers and believes that he would be happier without them.
> 
> Why Quicksilver is shown begging in The Day After one shot is never explained. It's a bit hard to consolidate panels of him here with his life in Son of M #1. I don't have a good explanation for this, either.


End file.
